Chapter 51
“Madam, I would speak to you.”
Darcy did not even acknowledge the other people in the room, only pushed the door open and snapped at his wife. He did hold the door open for her to walk through, but it was clearly not out of courtesy. He watched her impatiently, like a vulture waiting for its supper to stop twitching.
Elizabeth did not meet her sisters’ eyes as she left. She could guess at their expressions and had no desire to see if she was right.
The younger girls were still intimidated by Darcy.
That was understandable, for he was quiet, intense, and gave the impression of looming over them due to his height.
He had no patience for any foolish behaviour and had temporarily classed the trio into a single entity which he tolerated, but did not really try to engage with.
Elizabeth could not blame her younger sisters for being intimidated by that.
They had rarely been around a man who so efficiently put them in their place.
Jane’s opinion was the one that stung. She had spent a great deal of time with Mr. Darcy, and he had been both patient and kind to her.
They knew of each other’s problems and had spent many evenings in pleasant conversation.
To find out that Jane had a bad opinion about him was shocking, and this was far beyond a minor complaint.
Lizzie was horrified to discover how easily Jane had painted Darcy into the role of a ravager.
The realisation that she thought Mr. Darcy’s compassion and patience were a mere mask for a depraved monster was utterly abhorrent.
Elizabeth struggled to forgive her sister for even having the idea in her head, much less speaking of it aloud.
It was only the sure knowledge that Jane had acted out of love which comforted her.
Naturally, she had not breathed a word about it to Mr. Darcy himself.
She could not imagine how injured he would be to hear Jane’s thoughts.
Darcy was pale with anger as he led her through the house.
Elizabeth wondered if he had heard Jane’s accusations after all.
Then she mentally shook her head. It could not be that; they had spoken several days ago, and Darcy was not the type to mull over an issue that infuriated him.
There was an immediacy to his anger. It was his resentment that lingered.
Elizabeth followed Darcy into the study, still baffled as to his anger. Her heart sank when he locked the door behind them.
“Well?” he demanded before the key had even left his fingers.
“Well… what?” she blinked.
He stepped closer, “Do not feign ignorance, madam!”
“Oh, I shall not! I shall be honesty incarnate once you actually tell me what’s wrong!” she cried, “Darcy, you could be angry about the supper menu or the price of candles for all I know! If you intend to scold me, sir, then you must begin by telling me why!”
He went a little red, knowing that she was right, but did not back down. Through gritted teeth he told her:
“My cousin, Fitzwilliam, arrived an hour ago. I had no idea he was coming. Mrs. Reynolds is settling him into his room as we speak.”
“Oh! He did not tell me he was coming.” Elizabeth defended herself at once, “Had I known, then of course the rooms would have been better prepared. But if he will turn up without warning…”
“You misunderstand me entirely, madam.”
Elizabeth fell silent against the icy formality in his voice.
Darcy had started to pace. She had not seen him do that since their honeymoon, when she had arranged for the alcohol to be removed from their room.
Then, his fury had come from his wounded pride.
He looked just as injured now. He spoke in a low growl, like a tiger stalking its prey.
“You tell me that he did not send word of his arrival. I believe you. Fitzwilliam has always been impulsive. But you have been corresponding with him in secret for quite some time, have you not?”
Elizabeth’s blood ran cold. “You said I could.”
“I said you could write a letter, madam, not a book!”
“You placed no limits upon me, sir. You could not! I have the right to write to my friends, sir, without asking for your permission!”
“That is exactly the issue!” he snarled, “He is not your friend. He is a stranger! You have shared such intimacies with him that I had not thought you would share with Jane!”
“Are you accusing me of… of…” Lizzie gasped, horrified. Darcy followed her thoughts and snorted derisively.
“No, madam. In that respect you have given me no cause to distrust you.”
“In that respect?”
“In that alone! How dare you confide in him? You told him everything about me! You told him that I was… that when we met…”
Elizabeth forced her feet to stick to the floor. The urge to back away made her whole body shudder.
“I did it for your sake.” she rasped, “And his, and most of all for Georgiana.”
“Georgiana! I fail to see how humiliating me can possibly help my sister!”
“Yes! You do fail to see it! You act as though you are a different man than the one who, a year ago, rejected all of his family because he preferred to be drunk than to accept their help! Are they all supposed to forget that, because you tell them that you have changed? You have made no apologies, sir, nor thanked the ones who were willing to give you a second chance. Your word, you assumed, was all that was required. In your reckoning you were justified in casting them off - and now you resent them for wanting to understand!”
“Understand!” he exploded, “Understand what, Elizabeth? That I am weak? That he should pity me? He knew enough, damn you.”
“Fitzwilliam loves you, Darcy, as much as I do and more. But even love cannot make a tender soul waste their compassion on a man who does not - will not - care!”
Darcy stepped back. Elizabeth realised that she was breathing heavily and that she had been shouting loudly enough that anyone walking past the study would have heard her clearly.
She despised herself in that moment, for her pitiless assault and the pain she had knowingly caused the man she loved.
It was all true - every word - but once again she had deceived her trusting husband when she should have simply spoken to him.
She had imagined Fitzwilliam’s arrival as a pleasant surprise for Darcy: a heartfelt reconciliation between two stubborn men. Now she saw that it never would have worked. Darcy was too cynical to accept that forgiveness could come uninvited. Fitzwilliam was too honest to conceal the truth.
Here she was, caught in the middle once more. Just like with Georgiana, she had misjudged the whole stubborn family.
Last time it had happened…
Elizabeth was filled with sudden dread. Darcy had backed away from her tirade and was now sitting at his desk, head buried in his hands. He was perfectly still, but Lizzie knew that his thoughts must be pure chaos.
It was a familiar sight. That was how Georgiana looked when she thought nobody was watching. Now her brother was locking himself away, just as she had.
What would happen when he emerged?
Elizabeth bit her lip, hard, to stop herself from speaking. She had to resist the urge to apologise. She was not sorry in the slightest, but a voice in her head was screaming at her.
If you apologise, then perhaps he will not… perhaps it will be enough to stop him from…
From what? There were no bottles he could reach for. Elizabeth watched her husband’s fingers clench and tangle in his dark hair. There were no bottles in the house, but she could tell that was the only obstacle that remained.
Now, in this moment, in this room, there was only the need.
“Darcy…” she tried, not knowing what to do. He glared up, rejecting any sympathy or gentleness she might offer with immediate, scathing fury. Elizabeth trembled, refusing to back down, and at first her voice sounded strong.
“Darcy, if you use this as an excuse to… to fall, then I shall never forgive you.”
He scoffed and buried his head back in his hands. His voice was strong and spiteful.
“Since I am unworthy of any forgiveness, by your reckoning, that means nothing to me.”
Elizabeth stepped back, her nerve failing. In a strangled croak she begged, “Don’t make me hate you.”
Darcy did not look up. Elizabeth watched him blurring and softening as her eyes filled with tears. When he vanished into the mist, she turned and fled.